


I think I've seen this film before, and I really liked the ending

by devastation



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Bellarke Bingo, Canon Universe, Domestic, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Post Series, Post-Canon Fix-It, in this house we ignore 7x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devastation/pseuds/devastation
Summary: “Last time you forced them at gunpoint—”“My gun was holstered.”“—to sit and watch a deeply disturbing old movie. They'd much rather take their chances with former criminals, cultists, and cannibals.”“They’re all old movies.” Bellamy protests.-Clarke is tired of Bellamy's pretentious, boring taste in movies.A soft post-series fix-it that ignores 7x13 because fuck 7x13.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	I think I've seen this film before, and I really liked the ending

**Author's Note:**

> 7x13? I don't know her. Actually, all of s7??? I don't know her. 
> 
> This also knocks out some of my squares for [bellarke bingo](http://bellarkebingo.tumblr.com/): domestic, fluff, & love confessions.

“Where is everybody?”

Clarke jumps, nearly dropping the bowl in her hands. She turns to find Bellamy at the kitchen backdoor. He hides a laugh under a cough when he sees her annoyance and when her eyes narrow further, he throws his hands up in mock surrender.

The farmhouse _is_ unusually empty. Madi is with friends and Raven, Emori, and Murphy fled when Clarke informed them it was movie night and Bellamy’s choice.

“Last time you forced them at gunpoint—”

“My gun was holstered.”

“—to sit and watch a deeply disturbing old movie. They’d much rather take their chances with former criminals, cultists, and cannibals.”

“They’re _all_ old movies.” Bellamy protests.

It’s a little tradition Bellamy and Clarke have established. Once a week (usually more often), Bellamy will come over and they’ll watch one of the tens of thousands of movies the Eligius III crew had stored to preserve human culture.

The first night, they’d put on some forgettable movie and Clarke sat next to Bellamy, his arm slung across the back of the sofa. She could feel the heat of his arm against her neck, and she felt _safe_.

It wasn’t a sudden realization but an overwhelming awareness that she has always felt safe with Bellamy. Her life has been a series of endless battles and even in the throes of it, she has always been able to turn to him for a moment of refuge. He nourishes her, breathes life into her tired soul. And now, finally, with real peace for their people, she can still only feel true vulnerability alone with him. She can drop the mask she’s expected to wear and the burdens she carries and unleash the parts of her she locked away when her mother floated her father.

Clarke spent the entirety of the movie in a daze, too distracted by her own revelation. When the credits began to roll, she worked up the courage to rest her head against his shoulder and after a long minute, his arm fell to pull her closer, and they sat together quietly long after the screen went black.

It was a confirmation of something they _still_ haven’t named.

“It was a black-and-white silent film.” Clarke deadpans, sprinkling some salt into the bowl.

“ _The Man Who Laughs_ is a classic. Although, the movie ended much happier than the book…” Bellamy’s voice trails off as he inches closer, peering over her shoulder. “What is that?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Clarke turns to give him another withering look _,_ but he is so much closer and her heart stutters. Oblivious, Bellamy continues to examine the contents of the bowl and Clarke takes a moment to appreciate his cleanly shaven jaw and the freckles dusted across his nose.

“It’s bugs.”

Bellamy’s nose crinkles. “The man-eating bugs?”

“One and the same. Gabriel is trying to eradicate them. He thinks we might be able to make radiation shields obsolete in the next twenty years.”

“And his plan is to eat them?”

“No, smart-ass.” Clarke nudges him with her elbow and explains Gabriel’s plan to make them more docile through breeding with genetically modifying flies.

The plan had seemed far-fetched, but Gabriel had gone off on a tangent, insisting that he’s “a lot smarter than some Florida hillbillies” (whatever that meant).

He’d kept going, vibrating with excitement, convinced that if he could alter their genetics, he’d be able to do the same to the unused Eligius III animal embryos and modify them to be Red Sun resistant.

That, however, was decades away, and Clarke was more interested in the potential for a new source of immediate protein.

“So, I’m your guinea pig. For oven-baked bugs.”

“You’re my guinea pig.” Clarke confirms. She’ll have a hard time convincing anybody to eat insects if she can’t make them at least slightly appetizing. “I’m thinking of calling them _Clarke’s Crunchy Creepy Crawlies_. Go on, be the first to try one.” Clarke shakes the bowl, expecting laughter and lighthearted ridicule; has grown addicted to his quick wit and their back-and-forth bantering.

Instead, Bellamy surprises her. With a melodramatic sigh, he reaches into the bowl. “I’ve always been willing to do anything for you, Clarke Griffin.”

He says it casually, before taking a handful of tossing them back but Clarke can see the tightness in his jaw and repeats the words in her mind, terrified she’ll find resentment.

There’s none. Only honesty and affection.

Clarke nods absentmindedly, unable to speak for a moment.

Bellamy knocks his forehead gently against the side of her head, pulling her back to reality. She leans into him, sure she could live in this moment forever.

“This little food experiment is why everybody left.” He declares.

Clarke plucks one out of the bowl herself and chews thoughtfully. She’s had worse.

“Nope. It was definitely your crappy movie.”

* * *

Bellamy sets down their snacks and moonshine and a silly, shallow sort of doom flood Clarke’s insides when Bellamy reaches for the controller. It _is_ his turn to choose but his taste leaves much to be desired. Fortunately, Clarke has a plan to avoid watching another pretentious, insufferable film.

“Madi was watching a movie with her friends a few nights ago.” Clarke feigns nonchalance, tracing random shapes into the velvety pillow in her lap, “ _Hercules_ , I think.”

Bellamy’s hand stills. “Oh?”

“It’s about some Greek mythological hero—"

“I know who _Heracles_ is.” Clarke rolls her eyes at his emphasis on the correct Greek pronunciation and is quick to speak again, uninterested in hearing another rant about what a cheap sham Roman mythology is.

“Madi _loved_ it.”

Bellamy grins, genuine fondness shining bright in his dark eyes. “She’s a smart kid.”

Clarke hums her agreement but does not allow the pleasant warmth under her ribs to distract her. She focuses on Bellamy’s thumb hovering over the _Play_ button to start some boring film adaption of some boring book he loves that Clarke will most certainly force herself to read because she’s in l—

 _Never mind_. Triumph washes over Clarke when he backtracks and scrolls through the titles until he reaches a block of a dozen or so variations of _Hercules_.

She points out the correct one with faux indifference and holds her breath until he clicks _Play._

As they settle into the sofa and the first musical number begins, Clarke watches, delighted, as Bellamy’s expression cycles through confusion, grief, and then betrayal. He turns accusing eyes at Clarke.

“No take-backs!” Clarke throws his own rule back in his face. A few weeks ago, she accidentally chose the oldest version of _The Phantom of the Opera_. She spent the entire evening with her head in Bellamy’s lap, mostly asleep.

“You lied to me!”

“ _Technically_ , I manipulated you. Greek mythology is your _Achilles heel_ —” Clarke positively cackles with laughter when Bellamy groans, “—and I used that against you.”

Miffed, Bellamy crosses his arms across his chest and Clarke beats down an intense urge to kiss the frown off his lips.

“Madi did say it was great, by the way. Stop being such a snob.”

“I’m not a snob.”

Bellamy glowers at Clarke before turning back to the screen and recrossing his arms. He’s still pouting, his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip jutting out.

“God, you’re a snob _and_ a sore loser. You’re lucky I love—” Clarke’s mouth snaps shut and her cheeks colour. “—movie nights.”

A moment of silence passes, and Clarke can taste dread building in the back of her throat. She does not deserve to love him, not after all she’s done. She’s pulled away from her panicked thoughts when Bellamy presses his warm hand against her cheek, grounding her.

Instinctively, she puts her own hand over his. Her heart constricts as she is overwhelmed by the depth of his dark eyes.

“I love movie nights, too.”

And all of Clarke’s terror dissolves. She snorts, and when he knocks his forehead against hers and drags her back against the couch and into his arms, Clarke nestles into his chest and breathes him in.

They’ll have to confront it eventually. Everything that almost was. But for now, Clarke is content to wrap her arms around Bellamy and hear the steady drum of his heart ( _alive, alive, alive_ ) against her ear.

She shuts her eyes, hiding a smile in the fabric of his shirt when he presses a soft kiss into her hair.

* * *

An hour later, Bellamy is tipsy, flushed, and complaining loudly about every inaccuracy in the movie, demanding Clarke’s attention as he lists them, quiet and oddly entranced only when the characters break into song.

Clarke is a few drinks in, too, but not quite as drunk as Bellamy. While he stares, slack-mouthed but somehow still endearing, at the screen, Clarke watches him.

He turns to her, one finger raised to the screen. Words slurring, he says: “That’s us.”

“Hm?”

“We won’t say we’re in love.”

Clarke’s mind blanks. She blinks. Once. Twice. She’s expecting her earlier dread, the cowardice holding her heart captive to chill the blood in her veins, as it always does. Instead, with Bellamy looking at her, she thinks: What the hell are we waiting for? Their refusal to say the words out loud, does not make it any less real.

“It’s okay. I’ll wait a thousand years for you, Clarke Griffin.” Bellamy's smile is lopsided and he’s looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky, and Clarke’s heart aches so deep, it takes her breath away. “A million, even.”

Clarke is abruptly made very aware that there is no reluctance or fear on his end. Only hers. Clarke is still frightened of her own rotten heart, what she’s done, what she almost did (she can still feel the weight of the gun in her palm).

But Bellamy surrounds her, promises to keep her safe, promises her she is forgiven, promises her she is enough. His certainty breaks down what little is left of her crumbled defenses. Clarke feels brave, feels _worthy_ for the first time in a long time.

“Speak for yourself, coward.” She says. “I’m in love with you.”

There is no hesitation, a smile brighter than the sun cracks Bellamy’s face almost in two. “Yeah?”

With a matching grin, Clarke tugs Bellamy forward and they tumble to the floor. A tangled mess of limbs, they break into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“We’re in love.” Bellamy declares. He cradles her face in his hands and as his warmth bleeds into her, inexplicable tears blur her vision.

Impossibly, Bellamy grins wider and Clarke’s heart glows brighter.

“We’re in love.” Clarke repeats softly.

And with her heart nearly bursting and minimal grace, Clarke buries her fingers into Bellamy’s dark curls and pulls him in for their first kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not seen Hercules (1997), [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ee86DRxtHU) is what Bellamy is going on about in the last scene. I kinda assumed that everybody's seen it but on the off chance you haven't, that last bit might be confusing (please watch it tho the soundtrack is to die for)
> 
> I think this might be kind of OOC, but we never really got to see these characters happy, did we -_-
> 
> & the little dig about Florida hillbillies is about their plan to release genetically modified mosquitoes in 2021 and I mean, they said they've done their research, but it just seems like a real stupid idea.
> 
> Also I wrote most of this pre-7x14... they do be killing all the characters I love ://// 
> 
> ANYWAY! Hope you enjoyed this little fic! I usually write angst so I had to include a lil but.... after the mess that was season 7 like... whomst really wants more angst


End file.
